


What's Your Name?

by AristocatSlippers



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Body Swap AU, F/M, Your Name AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristocatSlippers/pseuds/AristocatSlippers
Summary: The girl waves him away and swivels on her heel, heading back towards the train station she had just left. Ed turns to leave, pausing and calling after her. “Wait, what’s your name?”Facing him, she strides over and closes the short distance between them whilst untying the ribbon that keeps her hair up. It falls loosely around her shoulders and down her back. Ed finds himself stuck for words with warming cheeks.“My name is Winry!” She tells him.She hands him the red ribbon, placing it in his left hand and he can’t help but notice that her hands are warm. He curls his fingers around the cord. Tying the ribbon around his left wrist, he fumbles clumsily with his right hand, until eventually he succeeds. When he looks up the girl is gone.Winry has lived in small town Risembool her entire life, dreaming of one day moving to a big city like Central to pursue her career as an automail engineer. Then she starts having dreams of someone else's life there. Edward keeps having dreams of his home town, the one he left when he was too young to remember much of it, except, it's not his life there that he dreams of. Since the day a comet fell, he's been dreaming about the life of a girl that he doesn't know.





	1. Chapter 1

The comet is visible even from Central as it flies across the night sky of the city, Edward watches it, awestruck, from the balcony of Ling’s penthouse apartment, it leaves streaks of purple, green and blue trailing behind it. He doesn’t even need his telescope to see it, Ed’s almost glad he came to Ling’s stupid comet party. Not that the comet is stupid, he’d be watching it with his telescope from home if he hadn’t been convinced last minute. He just thinks having a party for the comet and then not actually watching the comet is a bit of a waste. Especially when instead of picking the third, the night the comet will be most visible, Ling picks the second. Studying astrology isn’t a bad hobby though, star charts cover the walls of his bedroom, dotted among posters of chemistry and physics - the sciences he studies as more than just a hobby. The comet is rare, but it’s nothing more or less than a breathtaking view.

The glass door behind him slides open, letting snippets of chatter and music slip out into the cool air of the October evening. Alphonse steps through and pushes it shut behind him, cutting off all of the noise. Edward rips his eyes away for only a second to glance at him.

“Oh, it’s you, Al.” Ed says, turning from him and back towards the night.

“Wow, it’s beautiful isn’t it?” Al asks, he steps up to the railing, leaning over it with his hands grasping the cool metal and head tilted upwards.

Nodding, Edward quietly agrees, “Yeah Al, it really is.”

Lingering a moment longer, Alphonse pulls himself back and gently taps Edward’s shoulder, “Dad called, he wants us to come home soon, I thought I should tell you.”

“Roy did, did he?” Ed mumbles bitterly, of course the man would inadvertently cut his stargazing short. 

“Brother, Ling said he can give us a ride home, you know.”

Edward shakes his head, turning down the offer, “It’s fine Al. You can go home now, I want to stay just a little bit longer and then I’ll walk.”

Alphonse looks a little bit uncertain but he agrees all the same, when he’s gone Ed breathes out a quiet sigh into the solitude of the night. He hears the growling engine of Ling’s car in the quiet street below and watches it leave. It would be nice if he could spend the rest of the night undisturbed, but by the time twenty minutes have passed his phone is ringing annoyingly in his pocket. He declines the call and takes it as his cue to leave. Slipping back through the apartment, Edward steps awkwardly around the signs of a now dying party, avoiding standing on paper cups and people alike. He waves goodbye to Lanfan when he passes her and makes his way outside the apartment.

There are two choices to make, the elevator or twelve flights of stairs. The phone rings angrily in his pocket a second time, Ed pulls it out, switches it off and starts slowly going down the stairs, taking the opportunity to piss off Roy further. He doesn’t have any spray paint on him - which is probably for the best - but it doesn’t stop him wondering who he’d piss off more by graffiting something crude about Ling in the stairwell: Roy, Ling or the security guards who’d no doubt ban him from the building the second they found out it was him. Luckily, the ones at the doors of the lobby can’t see inside his head, so he gets to just walk outside instead of being thrown out.

Even as he walks home, he lifts his face to the sky to watch. The night outside is cold, chill wind blowing his hair around his face and his jacket behind him. Ed is about half way home, walking down the street of the train station, when he hears someone calling his name. Glancing around the road, behind him there are a few people leaving the exit of the station, stepping out and shivering when the breeze hits them. He doesn’t know a single one of them, he keeps on walking away. Perhaps they were calling after some other Edward.

When he’s rounding the corner he hears someone calling his name again. Whirling around to face them, he finds himself face to face with a girl maybe two or three years older than him - she’s possibly seventeen or eighteen. Or more, finds himself face to chest. 

“Edward!” she says happily, “I came to see you.”

The blonde girl is blue-eyed, pretty and about a head taller than him, her hair is tied up in a high ponytail with a braided red cord. When he looks at her closely, she seems vaguely familiar but wherever he knows her from, Ed can’t remember. He doesn’t even know her name.

“Yeah, uh,” he says awkwardly, trying to avoid looking at her eyes or anywhere else that might be more at his eye level.

Her face falls at that and she starts to look puzzled, “Ed, it’s me,” she pauses then, continuing slowly, “You do know who I am, right?” she asks.

Edward shakes his head, he’s completely clueless, “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

Another gust of wind rips through the air, only then does the strange girl seem to notice her lack of suitable clothing, a tank top and a skirt in October weather. She begins to shiver violently, all the while seeming as if she were on the verge of tears. For whatever reason that he doesn’t know, he pulls off his own red jacket and gently places it around her shoulders.

She peers down curiously at the skull on the breast pocket, then laughs loudly. “Gosh Ed, your sense of style is just as tacky as it’s ever been.”

Her laugh is pretty, almost as pretty as she is. Ed flushes and half wishes that he did know who she was, she seems like someone he would like. Despite her poor taste in fashion, he thought that skull looked cool as hell. 

“Hey,” he exclaims, “My style is cool! Don’t insult it!”

She laughs harder then and Ed finds himself enjoying her laugh just a little bit too much.

After a moment she sobers up, looking at him inquisitively, “So you really have no clue who I am, huh?” She asks him sadly.

“No, I really don’t.” He tells her, checking the time on his watch. He cusses when he sees the time. “Crap, I have to go, it’s nearly midnight and Roy’s gonna murder me. Nice talking to you, though.”

There is, of course, a fine line between annoying his adoptive father and provoking the man to strong enough anger that he’ll murder him. Edward hadn’t been going for murder when he decided to take his time.

“Oh, is that so? I guess you better go then.” 

The girl waves him away and swivels on her heel, heading back towards the train station she had just left. Ed turns to leave, pausing and calling after her.

“Wait, what’s your name?”

Facing him, she strides over and closes the short distance between them whilst untying the ribbon that keeps her hair up. It falls loosely around her shoulders and down her back. Ed finds himself stuck for words with warming cheeks.

“My name is Winry!” She tells him.

She hands him the red ribbon, placing it in his left hand and he can’t help but notice that her hands are warm. He curls his fingers around the cord. Tying the ribbon around his left wrist, he fumbles clumsily with his right hand, until eventually he succeeds. When he looks up the girl is gone. He stares after her for a moment then hurries the rest of his way home.

Roy stands in the doorway, waiting for him to arrive. When Ed comes into sight the expression on his face morphs into an angry glare. Ed grimaces, mentally preparing himself for the lecture and chewing out that is bound to come. To Roy’s credit, Ed had more than pushed his limits. Surprisingly, Ed finds himself alive by the end of the night, just thoroughly grounded for the week.

The next evening he studies the comet from his window, fascinated as it splits in two. It truly is a breathtaking view.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments on the last chapter! Apologies that this update took a while, I'm a notorious procrastinator. Also uh, sorry about the cereal rant, I mean I do think it's in character for Ed, but I also just have very strong feelings about honey nut cheerios. I miss them guys, I miss them.

Something is wrong when Winry wakes up, quite what it is doesn’t immediately register in her sleep-fogged brain, but she knows rather certainly that something is wrong. Rubbing at her aching right arm, Winry wishes she hadn’t slept on it. With sudden realisation dawning on her face, Winry freezes and stares curiously down at her arm. It’s real, flesh and blood and full of feeling and not at all metal. Throwing the blanket off in a rush, she lifts her left leg in the air and inspects it, poking the foot for good measure. It looks real and it feels real which can't be right, but it's what she's seeing. 

Automail can't just turn back into missing limbs, it doesn't make any sense to her. A dream, she realises with a sigh, it's the only logical conclusion she can come to when she considers it. Wouldn't it be nice though if the missing arm and leg had just grown back overnight to replace the ever expensive automail? It would also explain why, when she catches a glimpse of herself in the room’s mirror, instead of the appearance that usually stares back, there's a blonde haired, blue eyed girl looking at her from inside the mirror. She looks vaguely familiar but wherever she knows her from, she can't remember. Pulling her attention away from her new limbs and the girl in the mirror, she glances around the room and finds it completely unfamiliar. It's a fairly neat room, only a little bit of mess here and there, devoid of the posters that dot her walls in real life, although there's a board of photos pinned up against the wall. Inspecting it, she finds most of the photos contain the same few people. Some with the same blonde, blue eyed girl standing smiling with a black haired girl and a brown haired girl, others with her standing in front of a man and a woman that she looks nothing alike, a young girl on her shoulders who looks a lot like the woman. The only truly messy place is the desk, covered in tools and metal parts and books on engineering. 

Whatever she's dreaming about, she has no real idea. But when she swings her legs over the side of the bed and wanders out onto the balcony of the unfamiliar room, the view is one of startling familiarity. The view is of a snowy Risembool, the town she remembers leaving at five years of age and has rarely come back to since - only ever to visit a certain grave once in a while. 

“Sis! You're gonna be late to school!” The young girl from the photos yells, bursting into the room, “Hurry up!”

Winry jumps in surprise, not expecting the disturbance, when she’d gone to sleep it had been the summer holidays, why the hell she had to dream about a school day was beyond her. The girl - her sister, apparently - leaves and slams the door shut behind her. Sighing, she steps back inside and looks around for clothing. The closet yields nothing of satisfaction, nose wrinkling in disgust, she rummages through the clothes without liking a single thing she comes across. Everything is either a pastel tank top or a skirt. There aren't even any skulls. She comes across what looks like a school uniform and groans, she hasn't had to wear one in years, it really is a stupid dream. Hopefully she'll wake up soon. Tugging off the engineering themed nightie over her head - at least, there's a print of automail on the front with something about being a mechanic on so she assumes it's engineering that the nightie is on about - she pulls the plain, grey dress on, some socks and a pair of shoes, (not even boots, they're slip-ons) quickly plaits her hair and looks around for what might be a school bag. 

A black satchel sits in the corner of the room, full of books and holding a pencil case so she assumes that this is what she'll need. She grabs a few of the textbooks from the desk and quickly shoves them in before heading down the stairs. In the hope of finding something worth eating, she tries to find the kitchen. The first door is a disappointment, it opens onto a living room with a comfortable looking couch and a rather startling amount of photos hanging on the walls. The room has no food however, and her stomach is beginning to grumble rather loudly at her, so she shuts the door and tries the next one. 

“Winry! We thought you were never going to join us.” The dark haired man exclaims, looking up happily from his newspaper. 

She freezes up for a second - like a deer caught in headlights - but quickly finds her voice, pulling out a seat and plonking herself down into the chair, she waves him off, “Yeah, yeah, Dad, I get it, I'm late for school.”

He looks startled but doesn't comment on it. Winry stares critically at him, realising that that probably wasn't the response he had expected. At least she knows what to respond to now - Winry, the name is somehow familiar once again, though she can't say why. It's starting to frustrate her, she feels like she knows everything here but can't quite grasp it from the edges of her memory. The longer she watches them though, the closer she thinks she gets. If she's right then the man - her Dad, maybe - is Mr Hughes who used to live somewhere in the small town. The two daughters and the wife are new, but it has been thirteen years so perhaps it's unsurprising. Reaching towards the middle of the table, she leans over and grabs a cereal box to pour into her bowl, pointedly ignoring the fact that most people eat cereal with milk. She glares disdainfully at the regular cheerios - regular cheerios, anyone with any taste would know that the honey ones were superior, better than that were honey nut though they got discontinued a year or two ago, she’s still in mourning about that brand decision, really - however, they’re still the best option there. Else she’d have to suffer through bran flakes or weetabix, which aren't all that nice dry. That would change the dream to a nightmare in an instant. The funny thing is, is that when you're dreaming, if you know it's a dream then you should wake up right? But she's aware she's dreaming and she isn't waking, there's something very strange about it that she mulls over as she eats. 

“Gracia,” Hughes says chipperly, “You know those two boys Roy and Riza have been fostering?”

Gracia nods in response. Winry’s eyes narrow suspiciously as she spoons cereal into her mouth.

“Ed and Al?” Gracia asks.

“Yeah, they’ve decided to officially adopt them!”

Gracia’s rosy pink lips broaden into a smile, “Oh that's wonderful dear,” she says, genuinely happy for them. “Elicia,” she adds, turning to the little girl “have you got everything for school?”

The spoon hangs limply in Winry's mouth as her hand drops from it in surprise, she's about to demand what the hell they were on about, though the chance is lost when Elicia nods and starts tugging at Winry's sleeve. It's time to leave, apparently. She snatches one last slice of toast and shoves it in her mouth as she gets dragged out of the door. Somehow, she seems to remember where the elementary school is and she takes Elicia there without too much difficulty. Elicia regards her with a strange expression when she drops her off at the gate, but after a moment she runs off, waving and shouting her goodbye to her. 

She wanders somewhat aimlessly around the small part of the village she remembers in search of the high school, hesitant to ask directions of the people she doesn't know past blurred faces from fuzzy memories. The only path she really knows is the one from the train station to the graveyard and there's never been a high school on the way. Most of Risembool - herself included - is ankle deep in snow, when it starts snowing again is when she decides to give up on finding the high school, there are other places she can go to spend the day and she's probably already an hour late for school anyway. There's not really any point to going in now, she thinks. 

What she wants to say is that the house remains unchanged, though it's not strictly true. Ivy climbs the whitewashed walls which have yellowed just slightly with time and the paint on the door has begun to peel. The swing looks the same however, and there's still the same old flower pot by the front door, the key is still underneath it too. She takes the key, inserting it in the lock without worrying about anyone being inside. The windows are still in tact and they never sold the house - it wasn't as if there was anything to pay off on it anyway - so she reasons that it should be empty. She's right, of course, there's no sign of any living thing in the house, nothing besides cobwebs and dust. It's still chilly even inside and the lights don't work. 

Candlelit lanterns are a fair replacement and ten or so of them sit untouched in the hallway cupboard, she takes two out and lights them with the pack of matches, placing one on a shelf and carrying the other with her. Even the fireplace is still a mess, if Mom were here she would have swept up the ashes, she thinks. But nostalgic childhood memories of watching movies by the fire with Al remind her that the two of them never cleaned it up. Taking up the broom in her hands, she sweeps up the ashes into the dustpan and goes to find the coal. It's in the same place as it always was so she finds it rather quickly, lighting a fire and revelling in the sudden warmth. 

Visiting the house again feels strange and wrong, it's that sense that the house is untouched by time whilst the rest of the world moved on, the house has clung desperately to its memories and refused to let anything go that it can keep. It's hard for Winry not to contemplate just how unfair it is, staring despondently into the flames of the fire as the thoughts pass through her head. However long she spends sat cross-legged on the ground doesn't really matter much to her, she's not much of a pretty sight when she broods, but there's also no one around to care. 

She pushes herself up eventually to wander the rest of the house, wondering what else time refused to touch. She remembers every room and in a stupid bout of masochism she apprehensively pushes the door of Mom’s room open. It's the same as it was when Winry was five, even the little toy dog she made from clay remains on the bedside table. There are books and perfume bottles, bracelets and little trinkets that Al would buy her still dotted around. There are no skeletons in the closet, only old dresses. They smell dusty, but they also smell like Mom, flowery perfumes and the scent of sugar and cocoa from whenever she was baking. Winry pulls one of them off the coat hanger and breathes in the smell deeply. Of course she still misses her, Winry misses her smile the most. 

Carefully, she replaces the dress in the wardrobe, leaving it as if she had never touched it in the first place. The place is full of too many memories for her. They were good memories really, so much time spent smiling and laughing. It's only the last few that are sad, it's so unfair. The bed smells like Mom too, did they even change the sheets before they left? She clambers on top of it and it's like she's four years old again.

Winry doesn't cry, “It hurts,” she whispers, her voice thick, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her head on her knee. Why did she have to have such a cruel dream? 

*

She's in trouble and Winry knows it, there are a number of texts and missed calls waiting for her on her mobile phone that alert her to just how much trouble she will be in when she goes home. Most of them are from Paninya, they start off reminding her that she's going to be late if she doesn't hurry. Which isn't a particularly unusual occurrence, not really. She's often pushing the boundaries of being late but she almost always makes it in a few seconds before the bell rings. However, as she scrolls down her messages, the tone of them shifts. They demand to know where she is, and when she thinks about it she realises that she doesn't even know herself. 

If she's honest, she doesn't even remember how she got there, simply waking up with tears in her eyes and a splitting headache. She could have been kidnapped - she doesn't know, she's not too sure. It's probably not true, if she had been, leaving her alone wouldn't be the smartest of ideas. Looking out the window relaxes her, she recognises the view easily enough even through the swirling blizzard and checking the door to the bedroom she finds it unlocked. There's another issue, of course, because for all that she knows where she is there's no way she can get home safely until it stops snowing. She's smart enough not to risk it. She can't stay though, her bag, full of textbooks as it is, has no food in it. If she doesn't eat soon she'll starve - given her memories of snow storms lasting over a week in the past. 

She’d call if she could, but any signal that her phone might have had is blocked by the storm. Shivering for the cold, she pulls the blanket off of the bed and wraps it around her shoulders, wandering downstairs to investigate the house. It's the abandoned house that she woke up in - no one's touched it in years. Granny tells her that there used to be a family living here before the father left and the mother died. Apparently she used to play with the two boys but she doesn't remember them, they left when she was too young. She doesn't have to wonder what happened to the two boys, Granny had always said she would have cared for them if she hadn't had a bad fall around the time that left her in hospital for months, recovering from a broken hip. They had ended up in foster care, apparently. 

The thought of Granny brings her some hope of getting home, her house always had been close to the empty one. If she just wraps up warm she can at least make it the mile or so to her house, that way she'll be able to use her landline phone to call and let everyone know she's safe. How she'll explain why she didn't show up for school or where she was and why she went there will be the difficult part. Probably because she doesn't know the answers. 

She feels bad about it, but she needs to get home somehow and if she simply wears the plain grey dress and nothing else she'll freeze to death, still she takes a thick coat from the pegs in the hallway, tightly doing it up. It's not like they'll notice, she reassures herself, it's an abandoned house. Everyone knows that no one has lived there for over a decade. The fur trimmed boots are a little bit too small and she doesn't have enough room in them to so much as wiggle her toes. She figures she can live with it, her legs are still bare however. If she could just find some tights she would be okay. There aren't any though and she grimly weighs up her options. She can't stay there without worrying everyone and going hungry - or dying from dehydration potentially, if the water doesn't work, though she hasn't checked yet - or risking severe frostbite by braving the snow to get to her grandmother's house. If the snow storm is going to last days like usual however, then she has no real choice in the matter. 

She runs upstairs and checks the room for trousers, finding a pair of comfortable boyfriend jeans in the drawers and slipping them on, she only needs them for today and then she’ll put them back, Winry tries to ignore the fact that it feels so much like stealing. Checking the living room, she sweeps up the ashes of the now burnt out fire and blows out the flickering lights of the lanterns. With one last check that the buttons on her borrowed coat are done up properly, Winry takes the key from the door, stepping out into the bitter cold and locking it shut behind her. She places the key under the pot on the step, hoping that she'd left it in the same place that she found it. 

The snow is deep and she sinks into it as she walks across it, the still falling snowflakes filling in her footsteps behind her and hiding any evidence of her. She shivers in the cold wind that numbs her nose, contemplating the idea that leaving was a mistake - she's freezing, can barely see and her feet are soaked through even with the fur boots. She's already somewhere around half way there though so, for the sake of it being sheer pointlessness if she does, Winry doesn't turn around and keeps going. Her lips are blue by the time she knocks on the door, Granny opens it and looks at her with worry.

“Winry, where have you been?” She demands crossly, even as she ushers her inside into the warmth of the house and rushes around to find her a towel. 

Struggling to find an answer to her question, Winry pauses for a moment before she responds, “I'm sorry Granny, I don't really remember. I woke up with such an awful headache, it's like half the day is blacked out from my memory.”

Granny pauses, staring at her in concern with a furrowed brow, she reaches out and puts a warm hand to Winry’s forehead, flinching back at just how icy she is. “I’m going to go run you a bath, okay?”

Winry nods numbly, still trying to figure out what happened that morning and still coming up blank, she’s grateful for anything that will warm her frostbitten hands and feet to the point of thawing. She peels off the borrowed boots and socks, setting them aside and drying her feet with the towel, it doesn’t really do much to thaw them out, though she thinks she’s getting a little bit of feeling back. Hearing the sound of water running above her, Winry climbs upstairs and heads into her childhood bedroom. She couldn’t be more grateful that she kept a supply of clothes in the drawers than she is now, pulling out warm pajamas usually reserved for all nighters spent working on automail and learning the craft. 

“Winry, your bath is ready,” Granny calls from down the hall.

Winry grabs the pajamas, underwear and a towel, locking herself in the steamy bathroom as soon as Granny has left. The hot water restores some feeling to her hands and feet and she stays in until her fingers have started to look like prunes. 

“Do you know what happened this morning, Winry?” Granny asks her as she's stepping back down the stairs, rubbing her dripping hair dry with the towel.

Winry shakes her head, “I did have a bit of a strange dream though.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please do not mix hydrogen peroxide and sulphuric acid - I haven't studied chemistry in over a year and I believe that it likely produces a much larger explosion than the one described in this chapter and wouldn't be very safe. Besides that, enjoy the chapter

Sometimes Edward is strange. As his brother of seventeen years, this is a fact that Alphonse Elric is well accustomed to, and, by and large, has come to ignore and simply call normal for Edward. Alphonse has two definitions of strange, there's normal strange which can apply to anyone and is the strange that Alphonse would apply to Ed most of the most time, and then, there is Edward strange, which is the one where Ed is strange in comparison to himself. The first day of the summer holidays, Ed seems to be the second strange and it confuses Al greatly. 

Al wakes early, unable to ignore the bright sunlight that gets in through his open curtains, he'd shut them to block out the light if it weren't for the fact that he actually likes it that way. It means he doesn't waste his entire day lazing around in bed too often. It's not the healthiest of breakfasts, but Al has a long list of foods he wants to try and waffles are added to it most mornings. He puts fruit with them at least, it makes it a bit easier to justify to his mother why he has them every morning. Making twice as much batter as he needs, Alphonse eats his own waffles happily, enjoying the taste, before he makes a second batch and covers them in chocolate sauce. 

He carries the tray of waffles up the stairs to Edward's bedroom and is surprised to hear muttering of some kind. When he opens the door, Edward is sat at his desk, dressed and actually doing maintenance on his automail for what is probably the first time in his life. In all honesty, it feels wrong. Maybe because Alphonse is used to the twenty minute long attempts to wake Ed for school before he finally succeeds. 

“Wow, look at you, actually taking care of yourself for once,” Alphonse drawls sarcastically, setting the tray of waffles down in front of Ed. 

Ed jumps in his seat, practically flinching when Al speaks. Ed turns to face him, expression returning to seemingly calm. 

“You scared me!” Ed accuses, indignant, flinging the wrench in his hand at Alphonse with terrifying aim. 

Alphonse dodges quickly, heart pounding in his chest and grateful to every karate and martial arts lesson he ever got to go to. The wrench embeds itself in the wall with a loud bang instead, better the wall than his head though. Given his brother’s attempted murder, Al feels a flash of anger and glares at Ed. 

“Were you trying to kill me, brother?” He asks with a fake calmness, a hint of steel making its way into his voice. 

Ed has the decency to at least look remorseful and apologises as he gets up to dislodge the wrench from the wall, leaving a large hole that will need fixing later. That can be Edward's problem, his room and his fault, after all. 

“I hope you're going to fix that before Mom and Dad find out,” Al warns, nodding his head towards it. 

Edward stares critically at the hole, swallows anxiously and resumes performing some well needed maintenance on his automail, concentrating hard enough that he either ignores or doesn't hear when Al tells him where he can buy plaster and paint from to repair the wall. 

Still somewhat annoyed, Alphonse leaves the room, finding a biochemistry book to read up on for his project. Settling in the large armchair, Al sits in a sunbeam with his cat in his lap by the window, studying the book carefully and rereading when part of it goes over his head - which isn't often but for some reason scientists like to get unnecessarily wordy; it's one of Ed's poorer habits and one Al doesn't have when writing up experiments. 

“Alphonse, sweetheart,” Riza says quietly surprised, pushing open the living room door and walking in, Alphonse tips his head up to look at her instead of the page, “Aren't you and Ed going to the lab today?”

It's a routine, he goes every day to work on bacteria cultures and skin samples - among other things. There’s a certain rare disease he's looking to cure and no one but him seems to be doing much research on it. 

“I am. What time is it?” He asks, placing a bookmark, closing the book and setting it aside. 

“Ten twenty five,” Riza tells him, glancing at her wristwatch. 

He's a bit late if he's honest, not that it matters, no one there - if there's even anyone but him there, which is kind of rare outside of term time - ever checks what time he comes in. It's not an actual job or club. He could stay there overnight for three days straight and no one would bat an eye. He's done that before, actually, so he knows that from experience. Tapping the cat lightly until it jumps off his lap with a meow, Alphonse gets up from his chair, grabs his bag and goes to get Edward. 

He pats his leg encouragingly, smiling down at the cat, “Coming, Nina?” he asks. 

The cat meows and winds around his legs, it's an effort not to trip but Al just laughs and stoops down to pet her as he walks, Nina purrs happily and presses her head into his fingers for scratches. 

Alphonse kisses Riza’s cheek, “Bye Mom, love you.”

“Love you too, Al.” Riza says, patting his head fondly as he goes. 

Alphonse doesn't bother to knock on Edward's door, strolling in with Nina following close behind. 

Ed’s face lights up and he crouches down, holding out a hand towards the cat, “Kitty.” He gasps softly, tutting and tsking at her. 

Nina sniffs his hand warily, neither her or Al used to Edward being affectionate towards the animal instead of uneasy and suspicious. Ed stays coaxing her though and eventually she rubs up against him and accepts being stroked, though she cringes away from the cool automail. 

Alphonse watches, highly puzzled; Edward doesn't like cats. “Well, are you coming?” Alphonse says, somewhat demanding. 

Ed pauses, confusion passing over his face, “Going where?” He asks. 

Alphonse sighs, “The school lab, brother.”

Edward's expression doesn't really change from being confused, “Uh, yeah, of course I am… Bro…”

After a minute of expectant waiting, Ed sets aside the wrench and screwdriver, scrambling out of his chair to follow Alphonse to school. Almost as if he didn't know where it was; Alphonse regards Edward curiously as they walk, he's griping about his automail again. For once though, it's about the state of disrepair it's gotten into instead of it being heavy enough to possibly hinder his growth. Alphonse suggests going to a mechanic and lets the strange difference in Ed slide, for a while at least. It's difficult for him to shake the feeling that something is off, however hard he tries. 

The school laboratory is huge and empty in the summer, unsurprisingly, there's no one there to greet them, not even a teacher. He leaves Ed be to go work in the biology lab with neatly organised drawers and surfaces, the complete opposite of the haphazard mess of the physics and chemistry one that Ed so often works in… The one that Al swears he can actually hear Ed cleaning when he pauses for a moment to think, the cell in his microscope slide not yielding any new information - he already knew that it was a virus and not bacteria, if only he could get a closer look at the antigens and figure out how to deactivate the virus. Then he could develop a vaccine and move onto something else. 

Taking a short break, he might as well grab some food, he thinks, and check that Ed gets some too. He never does seem to take proper care of himself.

“Ed, do you want any food?” Al calls down the halls without getting a response. 

Sticking his head through the door, Alphonse glances around the now immaculate room and looks to the bored Ed, sitting around, doing nothing and looking confused. How very… unlike him. “Brother, weren't you working on the fuel for the model rocket? You know, testing alcohols and stuff to see if you could make a more efficient fuel than petrol?” He's genuinely curious as to the report, and Ed looks at least a little less lost, “Oh right, did you want any food? Mom made quiche or I can grab you something from McDonald's?”

Edward mulls over the thought for a moment, tapping a pen against the desk in an erratic beat, “Uh, quiche sounds good but I wouldn't mind a milkshake - if you're going there anyway. A strawberry milkshake, please!”

Alphonse nods, leaving to bring the quiche for them to share. Edward springs up from his seat, suddenly whirling around the room and grabbing chemicals at what seems like random along with a couple beakers before Alphonse is even fully out of the door. When he comes back with it neatly cut in two, Edward is about to pour two chemicals - dilute sulphuric acid and dilute hydrogen peroxide if he's reading the labels right - into the beaker together. 

Really, Alphonse should warn him. But then again, Edward should know better, though exploding the bottom of the rocket to propel it into the air isn't exactly the first method Al would consider. Plus, the chemicals are at least dilute. 

Alphonse takes a rather wise step backwards, putting the food safely away in an empty cupboard. He has approximately ten seconds to whip out his phone and start recording, then the beaker explodes in Ed's face. 

Alphonse bursts out laughing. 

: : :

Ling is laughing at him again. What about is anybody’s guess, Ling is almost always laughing at him, to be fair. But, to be more specific, Ling is sitting on his bed, watching a video and laughing his ass off, there's an unexplained hole in his wall and Lanfan is sat on the floor eating his leftover Xingese takeout. And and the obnoxious twat, Ling, only starts laughing more when Ed comes in his bedroom. Edward should kick them out, or at least demand why they're there but he made the unwise decision of going overboard and trying to bench press three hundred pounds less than twenty minutes prior. He flops exhausted on his bed and settles for punching Ling with his automail hand as he lays there. The good thing about automail is that it never gets tired; he could lay there punching Ling until he fell asleep. 

Ling, annoyingly - but unsurprisingly - doesn't flinch, perhaps he's used to it. Maybe Ed should start hitting harder. Ling pauses the video and watches Ed's hand, wearing an amused little smirk, “You know, Ed, you’re like a punching lucky cat.” Ling says smugly. 

Ed hits him just a little bit harder, “I wouldn't call that lucky,” he grumbles under his breath. 

Chuckling quietly to himself as Ed mutters obscenities at him, Ling slides the video back to the start and shoves the phone in Ed's face, pressing play. It's a short video, but enough to confuse Ed and simultaneously put him in a foul mood. How nice it is to watch Alphonse laugh at him as acids blow up in his face, at least he wasn't too close and the explosion isn't too large. His hair is still singed by it though, well at least that explains it. 

“Yeah, I wouldn't call that lucky either, boy genius,” Ling practically snorts and falls all over himself laughing again. 

Ed frowns, “Astoundingly, I don't remember this. Though I'm sure you got a kick out of it.”

Ling holds his hands up placatingly, still grinning all the same, “Hey now, Alphonse sent that to me yesterday and he said that you did that to yourself all on your own,” Ling fakes wiping a non-existent tear from his eye, “I'm so proud Edward, you've graduated to grade A idiot!”

“At least I get A’s” Ed says back, it's almost like he can't have a conversation with Ling that doesn't devolve into childish bickering. 

“Speaking of A’s actually, I failed my physics and chemistry tests so they're making me resit in a couple weeks. You agreed to tutor me so I only have to resit once - yet you didn't show up to our first session at 3pm today.” Ling tells him. 

“Why the hell would I agree to that? You couldn't shut up and listen long enough for me to tell you what two add two equals,” Ed demands, voice close to mocking. Now he knows why Ling’s there. Still no reason for Lanfan though - who is still eating his takeout and trying to pretend she's invisible so that he won't snatch it back - or the hole either, at that matter. 

Infuriatingly, Ling just shrugs at him, nonchalant, “I don't know, but you agreed.”

Annoyed, Ed gets up from the bed and crosses to the chair under his desk, spinning it as he sits, “Fine, let's start your first lesson then, be prepared to actually learn something.”

He slams a textbook down on his desk, turning to the most recent topic and opening up a notebook for them to write in. Ling grabs the folding chair from the corner of the room and struggles to pull it out for use, eyebrows furrowing in concentration and biting on his tongue. Exasperated, Ed takes it from him and unfolds the chair with ease. Ling looks at him with a slight expression of injured pride, which Ed pointedly ignores. 

Ling is ignoring every question that Ed asks to try and figure out what he knows - which is much less than what Ling doesn't know on the topic of particle physics. He's concentrating on something else and mumbling quietly to himself. Following his gaze, Ed sees the sentences written on a piece of paper taped to the wall that Ling is looking at. Ed swiftly snatches it up - he's not one for leaving anything private on his walls usually, but it could always be an important reminder, though it's not written in his handwriting. 

The sentences are, in fact, neither of those things and he struggles to read the awkward scrawl that comes with trying to write with automail. Ling continues to peer at them over Ed's shoulder, evidently, he doesn't recognise the handwriting either. 

“Do you know what it says?” Ling questions. 

“Who… are… you?” Ed puzzles out the first question, confused. 

Ling glances at him, curious, as Ed reads out the rest, “What happened to you? And why did you let your automail get into such awful condition?”

“Mm, I wonder who left that?” Ling says thoughtfully, “How strange, you obviously didn't write it but it's as if the person who did doesn't know you.”

“Yeah, it's weird,” Ed responds, his mind drifting as he considers it. 

Apparently already bored, Ling stands, stretching and settles cross-legged on the bed again, returning to watch videos on his phone - at least it's a different video. Ed scribbles a quick response and leaves the paper on his desk. Spinning idly in his chair, Ed tries to remember what he'd been planning to do before his discovery of Ling and Lanfan. The wall. Al had been warning him that he better fix it before Roy and Riza see it. Ed shivers, he doesn't know whose reprimand he fears more - Roy’s short-lived yelling or Riza’s deadly quietness. Lacking paint and plaster, Ed considers a simpler, temporary solution - he tells himself it's temporary though he's not quite sure how true he'll stay to his word. He takes one of his posters down and moves it to cover the dent that is apparently his fault. He doesn't remember making it though. 

Satisfied and with nothing to do, Edward roots around his drawers for his Nintendo DS. He's halfway through a boss battle in Legend of Zelda when Ling distracts him again. In the second that his attention is turned away, the boss attacks him and Link, the weakass, dies on the spot. Ed swears, annoyed and refusing to admit to himself that he was losing anyway. Link was the hero, he's supposed to be stronger than that. He saves his game anyway, and puts the DS away. 

“What do you want now, idiot prince?” Ed asks irritably, making use of his old, mocking nickname for Ling. 

“Don't you have to go tutor that Bradley kid today? I mean they pay you a ton for that, don't they?” Ling asks. Or more reminds him. It's rare that there's something for him to be grateful to Ling for. 

Edward cusses again, he'd honestly forgotten and his clock - despite the skull theme making it difficult to read - tells him if he doesn't get his ass in gear quick then he’ll be late. He tugs a file from a haphazard pile of them in the corner of his room, it topples to the floor and makes a mess. Ed doesn't acknowledge it, flipping through the file to check that the appropriate sheets are printed off. Assured that they're there, Ed waves goodbye to Ling and Lanfan, rushing out of his room. He practically throws himself down the stairs as he speeds down them, stopping at the bottom and pausing. 

Backtracking, Ed stands in his bedroom doorway to glare at the two of them, “Why the hell are you guys still here?” He questions, somewhat resigned. 

Ling and Lanfan just shrug at him, Ed struggles not to yell, “Ling, you have a penthouse apartment that's way nicer than my bedroom.”

Ling takes some of the noodles Lanfan has left and stuffs them into his mouth to avoid answering. “That's not where the smart people are though,” Lanfan answers. 

Ed’s eye starts to twitch. 

“Leave!” He half shouts, not bothering to hide his annoyance, “Or at least go bother Alphonse instead of sitting around in my room without me.”

Reluctantly, the two obey and knock on the door of the adjacent room. Finally. He's rid of them. And he really is going to be late. 

: : :

School days, in Winry's humble opinion, are far too long. They eventually come to an end though, and Winry sighs with relief at the thought of going to Granny's and taking a nice, long nap before helping her work on automail. She's just leaving the classroom with Mei when Paninya grabs her wrist and pulls her back, Mei pauses with her. 

“You're not skipping detention, are you?” Paninya asks, incredulous. 

Winry fixes her with a hard stare, “You always skip detention and get yourself into more trouble, Paninya.” She says sternly, “What are you on about anyway? My record’s squeaky clean, I don't get detentions.” She adds, pulling her wrist free from Paninya’s grip. 

“That was true until yesterday,” Mei helpfully tells her, “Mr Marcoh gave you a detention yesterday, remember?”

Winry shakes her head, shocked, “I never get detention though! I don't remember this! What did I do?” 

Paninya and Mei both look at her quizzically, as if she had just asked a really stupid question. 

“You would think she'd remember getting in a fight with Russell,” Mei whispers to Paninya, Winry's not quite sure she's supposed to be able to hear her. 

“Maybe he hit her hard enough to give her a concussion and now she has amnesia,” Paninya responds, amusement tinging her voice. 

Winry clears her throat, raising an eyebrow and watching the two expectantly, she would like more details than her apparently failing memory is able to provide. 

Mei eventually takes pity on her when she shows no sign of knowledge, “You got in a fight with Russell, like a fist fight,”

Winry nods, “I'd gathered that,” she says drily. 

Paninya sniggers, “It was over something pretty stupid,”

Winry levels her with a deathly glare and Paninya quickly stops laughing, Winry turns back to Mei questioningly. 

“It was over an electrical circuit in physics. Russell asked you to be his partner and then almost electrocuted you and you two started fighting. Verbally at first, then you lost your temper and punched him - don't you remember any of this?” Mei breaks off. 

“Nope,” Winry says, popping the ‘p’ and ready to hustle her friends out the door. 

She stops pushing when Russell enters the classroom to sit out his state assigned punishment, he catches Winry trying to leave and watches her subsequent giving up. Largely because Mr Marcoh enters behind them cutting off any attempt either of them have to escape. 

“I know we were both immature yesterday but you know we have to serve our detentions Winry,” Russell tells her calmly, his tone somewhat rueful. Though Winry recognises the hidden apology in his words. 

She groans audibly, he makes it sound like a prison sentence. A sentence that involves her alone; alone because Paninya and Mei have both kindly left her. “I'm sorry about that, I have no idea what got into me,” She says, she might as well try to be mature. 

“You know, you're supposed to be quiet during detention,” Marcoh states firmly. 

Both Russell and Winry shut up, exchanging a glance. Marcoh quickly sets them to work on their punishment task and although it's not cruel and unusual it's most certainly exhausting. He makes them organise everything in the classroom. A colossal task given the numbers of papers and boxes strewn about with rulers and pencils lying haphazardly on the floor. Eventually Russell gives up and creates a new organising system. He argues that it’s easier. Then when it's tidy, because the hour and a half aren't up, Marcoh makes them dust high and low too. Winry isn't even short but she has to stand on tables to reach the tops of shelves which hadn't seen any kind of dust cloth in a minimum of twenty years. Russell can't reach and claims that his weight would only break the table, so Winry carries out her duty with a certain amount of reluctant annoyance. 

Really, she'd much rather be asleep and dreaming about being that science boy in Central city.


End file.
